


Satanic Static

by BestTrashLife82



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Bad Puns, Body Horror, Demonic Themes, Electrical torture, Electrocution, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Torture, Unnamed Original Character - Freeform, mention of self harm, mention of suicide, out of body experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25785469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestTrashLife82/pseuds/BestTrashLife82
Summary: An unnamed sinner at the Hazbin Hotel makes a deal with the Radio Demon, and the results are quite shocking! Goodnight everybody!
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Shock Treatment

The afterlife was a red, throbbing, glowing, chaotic nightmare that stretched out indefinitely. 

Hell, her new home, proved itself to be just as unsatisfying as her previous home on earth. 

Her hellborn body was ghoulish, with gray thick skin, and a large horrific maw containing rows and rows of teeth. Her fingers had too many joints, ending in diamond sharp tips that would shred and tear almost anything that she touched.

Another dead soul and an optimistic demon princess had taken her under their care, and set her up with lodging, under some conditions. Those conditions were that she would forsake her sinful ways and set her sights towards redemption. 

Being desperate and without options, she agreed. Like the other denizens of hell’s ill-conceived halfway house, the Hazbin Hotel, she stayed there because she had no idea what else to do with her afterlife. 

It was a semi-stable existence. Mostly she avoided the other inhabitants of the hotel, only staring at them as they came and went, their footsteps echoing through the long dark red hallways, silhouettes moving behind colorful stained glass windows. 

Doing nothing and observing everything, she found a form of peace. 

She found a form of peace until the noises started. They started as a hissing, spitting static sound that she figured came from some electronic device malfunctioning in a nearby room. 

Only she couldn’t ever figure out what device, or where said device was located.

It reminded her of the Hotel’s most illustrious patron, who spoke in muffled radio tones punctuated by static, and whose chaotic interference permeated the air constantly when he was around. But he wasn’t always around, was he? Even after he left, his presence seemed to linger like infection and rot.

Maybe it was purely residual. 

Eventually, the static blended right into the white noise of her environment and she accepted it, and found comfort in it, allowing it to lull her to sleep like the sound of rain. 

Yet it was deep in the dead of night that the hue beneath her eyelids shifted from indigo black to reddish brown. Who had turned on a light in her room, and why was it so red?

Opening her eyes, she turned her head to face two luminous glowing scarlet ovals that blinked slowly.

She sat up to confront whatever it was. 

What it was, was of course the only thing it could have been: the soul-starved, sharp-toothed audio visual disaster that was the Radio Demon Alastor. Impeccably dressed, shock-headed and wild-eyed, he looked somehow unhinged and perfectly composed, towering over her. 

His smile literally lit up the room. 

“Hello!” he said through his teeth, voice obscured by static. His voice was the distant memory of how someone used to sound long ago: quaint, antique, yet utterly malicious. 

She stared at him, saying nothing. 

“Are you quite alright?” He inquired. “Oh, but of course you’re not! You’re quite dead, haha! Won’t you tell me your name, as I’m sure you’ve heard mine already?” 

She told him. 

“Pleasure to meet you, indeed. I’ve seen you here and there, tucked into corners, never saying a word to anyone! Keep this up and people will think you’re quite rude!” 

She finally spoke. “Are manners really that important in hell?”

The Radio Demon’s claws twitched, the static buzz that accompanied him hummed. “Depends on how set your sights are upon redemption, my dear. Tell me,” he tapped a clawed finger upon his own sickly gray chin. “How did you die? What earthly sins condemned you here?” 

She stared at him with round, white eyes. 

“Don’t play dumb now. I can always sniff out a lost, hungry soul. I’m certain you’ve heard the whispers about me; what I can do and where I have been. This hotel runs on my power, and it can fall by my power too. It’s in your interest to tell me what I want to know.”

“Alright, extort me why don’t you,” she said, “But can I ask why you are so eager to know?”

“Hmm, I know everything about everyone else, you see. All their little faults and foibles, sins, addictions, misadventures, fiascos, weaknesses. All of them, every single inhabitant in every room on every floor, have made deals with me to soothe their sins or to gain power. Everybody wants something from me and everybody can do something I want them to do. It’s a lovely little system that runs on a balance of power and favors. But you can’t play along unless you talk to me. So tell me. What vice have you committed that is so shameful it keeps you from talking to even the most perverse lowlifes that frequent this fine establishment?” 

She remained silent, her pale eyes staring into his glowing red gaze. His ambient electric static hum increased. It set her many rows of teeth on edge. 

“Do you always have to make those noises?” she asked. 

“Hmm?” the hum escaped from deep within his throat to blend in with the static. 

“The electric noises, the interference. I hear them all the time, even when you’re not around. Like a radio flipping through channels at a rapid rate. I can feel the noises,” she looked away from him, dropping her gaze to the floor. “It feels like a static shock.”

“Oh,” he said, wide eyes narrowing, grin spreading wide. There was no end to the length of his sharp teeth it seemed. “Do I truly have such an effect upon you?” He moved closer, until she could almost feel the static tickle and burn against her flesh. She backed away. “How interesting. Perhaps you haven’t said anything about the circumstances leading to your damnation because they are too,” he paused significantly and adjusted his monocle, “shocking?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or roll her eyes, so she settled for shutting her eyes tight and taking a deep breath. 

“Was that what did you in, darling?” He whispered, his voice coming to her low, like the sound of the sea from a hollow shell. “Was it the electric chair? She was sizzling at Sing Sing in my day, you know. Or perhaps,” The claws of one hand curled over her shoulder like spider legs clinging to a wall. “Perhaps a kindly doctor strapped you into a chair and told you everything would be just fine if you relaxed and let the electric current do it’s work. Yes, indeed! The wonders of modern medicine!”

She felt her throat constrict and her body begin to convulse. Memories of electric pulses rippling over her skin, breath heaving, euphoria rising. Countless machines and devices she’d volunteered to test, been subjected to, always asking them to turn up the dials for more and more, until her body finally gave up and, in pursuit of increasingly violent electric sensation, died. She told Alastor as much.

The Radio Demon’s claws, which had been holding onto her vice tight, digging in relentlessly, suddenly released her.

She met his fierce smile with a sour one of her own. “You weren’t expecting that, were you?” 

“Nonsense! Why, I’ve been down here long enough that I’ve seen every form of depravity. This is nothing new, though it is very repulsive! I would have preferred it had you been struck by lightning, even!”

“That’s right.” She gave him a pointed look, waiting for him to leave. He didn’t, though he did take a moment to stand up straight and brush off his suit and hair, as though her proximity had soiled him somehow. She drew in a breath to explain herself to him.

“So you see, there’s nothing you can do for me. I want more electrical sensation than any physical body can endure. Because I need it; I enjoy it. It’s the only feeling that gave me anything close to pleasure when I was alive. I’ve heard about you. You’d never do anything just for any one person’s pleasure. So you can forget you met me and go along with your other demon deals.”

His head tilted, the corners of his grin creeping up above his eyebrows. “Don’t presume to tell me what I can and cannot do. Rest assured I could make your undead soul spit like a live wire if I wanted. But that depends entirely on whether or not you’ll make a deal with me. I’d like to add you to my rolodex of favors owed. I’m somewhat of a completionist I admit, and you are the very last on my list.” 

“If I make a deal with you, what will I have to do for you?”

“Hmm.” He stroked his chin with an elegantly curved claw. “Why, whatever I happen to want; you’ll do for me! I’m sure I could find a use for even such a lowly creature as yourself. Every denizen of hell has their uses, even if it's just as a doorstop!”

She let out her breath slowly, feeling the remains of her undead heart and mind shift towards him, giving way like a burning log collapsing in a fire pit. 

Maybe the afterlife had something to look forward to after all?

“How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?” 

He held out his hand to her. “You shake and it’s binding for both of us. But there are conditions, dear, especially for creatures like you. You can’t just have anything you want from me any old time. I decide when and how to electrify you within an inch of your afterlife. I decide how long it lasts and where it happens. You don’t approach me; you don’t talk to me in public; you never touch me without permission. You’re quite a filthy sinner!”

She sighed. “If I’m so filthy, why offer me what I want like this? And I’m still not sure you can even give me what I’m looking for.” 

“Shake my hand; I’ll show you.” He approached her again, until there was barely any space left between them, and the static buzz emanating from him crawled over her skin promisingly. He leaned down, bending absurdly as though he were hinged, bringing his face right next to her ear. His voice tickled and fizzed the small sensitive hairs inside of her ear. “Make a deal with me, and I’ll give you enough fire to loosen your blood.” 

She was shaking his hand before she even knew it, and they were both enveloped in a green light. Alastor had not lied; he gave her a demonstration, right there as he held her gray dead palm in his black and red clawed hand. His eyes and teeth lit up like a damned nighttime carnival ride as he sent electric currents running into her palm and up her arm. All the lights in the room blazed, suddenly brought to life. The ambient static purred loud and rough and made her pant.

It almost felt like being alive again, the sharp smooth burning tingle of electricity awakening all of her nerves, lifting her up and transporting her away out of body, but leaving her hypersensitive and aware at the same time. She began to weep as the sudden violent onslaught of sensation interrupted the sullen gray fog of her afterlife.

She looked at the grinning demon’s face, lit up like an infernal Christmas display. “There he is,” she thought as she squirmed and shifted on the bed where she sat, “My antidote for hell’s anhedonia.”

His smile stretched ever wider as he pulled her forward even closer, bringing his other hand up to cup her jaw. She felt a sting as the tip of his claw pricked her bottom lip. He held up his claw to show her the tiniest drop of blood glistening there.

“Your blood seals the deal officially. Just a dab will do!” He stared at her unblinking as he licked her blood right off of his claw. 

She let out a shuddering breath, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You didn’t tell me you’d take some of my blood.”

“I didn’t? Well, I usually take blood during the handshake, but you’ve got sharp fingers and a thick hide. Your mouth is quite pliant though. I wonder,” his volume dropped as his eyes glazed over momentarily with static, “where your other soft spots are.” Then the static cleared from his eyes and he snapped back up to his full height. 

“Remember our deal, my dear! And the conditions!” 

He was gone, leaving cold dead air in his wake.


	2. Please Stand By

Weeks passed without any direct encounters with the Radio Demon. He was a frequent presence in the halls of the hotel, however; his formal shoes leaving hooved indentations in the carpet, his static still troubling the air. 

The only evidence of his deal with her was the tiny scab he left on her bottom lip where he’d pierced the skin. 

She thought of his handshake, and the conditions of their deal. What would happen first? A favor for him? Or something for her? In life, she’d always thrown herself recklessly into danger to feel more sensation, and this latest situation seemed to be no exception.

She was very tempted to approach him. Always, she had her eyes on his neat, starved silhouette as he left the room. Her ears perked up at the sound of his voice and the trembling electric interference he brought. 

He’d probably return to her in the dead of night again, just to keep things furtive. She knew she was distasteful to him. 

It was hard to stay patient. 

In the meantime, she kept up with her few assigned tasks for the hotel. It was hard to put her to work properly because of how her fingers tended to rip and shred everything she held. For the moment, she had to simply air out some of the unoccupied rooms on the upper floors. 

As she tried to pry one window open, her fingers slipped and cut right through the glass. The window splintered in its frame and then shattered, sending in the dull, red afternoon sunlight.

She saw a long shadow spreading on the floor before she heard and felt the room fill with static.

The shadow took Alastor’s shape and she felt sickened, relieved, excited, and stupidly embarrassed at having been caught in such a state. 

“You aren’t good for very much, are you?” He smiled, gesturing at the broken stained glass.

She stared at him, stung. “Do you need something from me?”

He approached her, slid an arm around her shoulder, and ruffled her hair. “I’ve come about our deal! My, my, did you think I’d forgotten?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you had.” 

In response to this, he dug his claws into the corners of her mouth to force a grin onto her face.

“No need for that glum attitude! I’m a very busy demon, you know; my dance card has been full! So many deals, so many degenerates to utilize! Speaking of, I’m still thinking of a use for you. Until you become useful, you can at least smile!”

“I should clean up this mess.” She moved towards the shards of broken stained glass. 

“Now, now! Would you really waste my precious time with that?” He pushed her back, holding her at arm’s length by the shoulders, broken shards of glass crunching beneath the soles of his shoes. “Was my power too much for you when we struck our deal?” He walked her backwards until she bumped up against the wall. “Are you frightened of me now, hmm? Just another demon who bit off more than they could chew? That’s quite a shame, because it looks like you could bite off and chew quite a bit with that maw and those teeth. Poor little damned soul, such tough skin and sharp teeth, and not a thing you can do with them!” 

He brought his face in way too close to hers, his wide yellow leer filling up the entire expanse of her vision. Reflexively, instantaneously, she raised her hand and swiped at his face. 

Horrified, she watched as black blood seeped from two scratches on his jaw, just underneath that wretched smile. It was about as high up as she could reach on him. 

The Radio Demon’s eyes dilated until they coated over with a static haze, white noise a hissing crescendo in her ears. “I’m going to hurt you for that.” His words came out distorted as the scratches on his face sealed themselves up. “First, let’s put away those nasty claws!” He took both of her hands, wrapped her wrists in a single grip, and pulled her arms above her head, pinning them against the wall. 

The position was not unfamiliar to her, and her dead heart began to race. 

“Sometimes the best way to punish a sinner,” he said, static crackling, “is to give them exactly what they think they want.” He held his free hand up in front of her face. The claws glowed an unholy red and he clicked them together, striking sparks. In a mockingly tender gesture, he stroked just beneath her jaw. The electricity burned and singed the flesh there, and he applied greater pressure, increasing the electric currents.

Tendrils of static shock curled in the back of her skull, spreading ripples of rich heat through her head and neck and finally settling down into her shoulders. He sent further jolts through her, and she was lost, drowning in a sea of static, wave after wave of burning pain heaving above and crashing over and saturating every nerve. 

The red glow in his eyes seemed to spread to his face as he heard her cry out in pain. At one point he even closed his eyes and hummed a jaunty tune. 

Then he stopped to look at the damage he’d inflicted. 

“You really do have thick skin my dear! And you conduct electricity so well! The neck is usually such a soft, vulnerable spot.” He let go of her and she slid down the wall to crumple into a heap at his feet.

She tugged at the red hem of his pant leg and he backed up and bent down to look at her. “I want a lot more of this, Alastor,” she said, looking up at him as though he’d hung the moon. “But this is a very good start. I’ll do whatever you want for more of this. It’s so good, ah, it’s been so long.”

He stopped her talk by placing the sharp toe of his shoe over her mouth and tapping lightly. “That’s enough out of you, sinner. Next time we meet, I’ll be cashing in a favor for myself.” He swept out the door with a flourish, leaving her on the floor of the empty room, surrounded by glittering shards of broken glass.


	3. Don’t Touch That Dial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There will be six chapters total. Sorry that wasn’t clear before!

An angry pink welt covered one side of her neck. It would have been so much worse were it not for the thick skin hell had gifted, or rather cursed, her with. Physical sensation was all she craved, yet now it took brutal intensity to feel anything at all. She thought often about what Alastor had let slip when they first struck their deal, about finding her soft spots. She had them in the usual places and they were hypersensitive after he had sent jolts of electricity through her body. It felt like a new kind of torment, the awakening and subsequent neglect of all the nerves in her agitated flesh. 

Alastor approached her again, much sooner than she expected. This time it was in the dead of night, and he swept aside her covers, grabbed her arm, pulled her out of bed and walked her down the hall before she knew what was happening. 

“I am pleased to say I’ve found a job for you! You’re going to be useful; imagine that! That is if you don’t fail miserably at your task!”

“It’s the middle of the night?”

“Why yes, it is! No better time to get things done away from prying eyes!” 

Her sleep-drunk mind strained to think of what he could possibly have dreamed up for her to do. She had hoped he would want to electrify her again, or that she could provoke him into doing so. 

“Here we are!”

They stood in a small office room with nothing but a desk stacked high with unopened letters snug in their envelopes.

“You get all this paper mail still?”she asked sleepily. 

“Of course! How else would mail arrive? These are all letters complaining about the hotel! I want you to open each envelope and mind you don’t tear the letter inside with your sharp idiotic fingers!”

“What, I have to open all of them now?”

“You have from now until sunrise, dear. You’d best get started if you want to see me soon in any other capacity.” 

She shivered, thinking of that, and readily began her new task as a letter opener. 

The next day, Alastor approached her again. He unfurled a large poster diagram of a deer’s body, with the different cuts of meat clearly labeled. 

“This is for you! You should study it, because I have a new job for you!” 

And that’s how she ended up elbow deep in deer carcass, peeling skin and severing joints and parting out cuts of meat. 

Alastor chastised her for making a mess even as he eyed her blood covered fingers with keen interest. 

“It’s a shame that your own meat is so tough, you know.”


	4. Power Surge

She performed endless tasks for the Radio Demon: cutting shrubbery, cutting wood, shredding the mail she had carefully opened, and most often, dismemberment on demand. Sometimes the bodies were of animals, sometimes other demons, and when she asked about these, Alastor simply stretched his smile out wide and held a finger to his lips. 

Then, after months of such errands, she returned to her room one evening to find a red and black striped envelope sitting on her pillow like a welcome mint. 

She carefully opened it up. A key fell out, and an invitation to be at a particular ballroom at an ungodly hour. 

When the time came, she struggled with the key and the lock and pushed open the heavy door to the ballroom. Not only was it empty but it looked unused, the furniture covered and abandoned. 

After several silent moments she called out, her voice echoing through the large space. Turning to leave, she bumped into a tall, shrouded hat rack. It rattled and shook and clutched at her shoulders because it wasn’t a hat rack at all.

The shroud fell from Alastor’s cadaverous form. She could see, even in the dark room, that his smile was subdued and his eyes were closed. It was almost like he slept, except that he stood straight and stiff and tall.

“Alastor? Are you awake? Are you alright?”

Red eyes opened in narrow slits, eyelids hooded and heavy. “I’m in hell, my dear,” he said. “And how are you this evening?”

She blinked. “Um, I got your invitation.”

“Splendid,” he said flatly. “Then I suppose we can begin.”

“Begin what? What is wrong?” She peered up into his face, looking for answers. “I’ve never seen you this calm before. It’s strange.”

His heavy lids lifted. “After all I’ve done, a calm demeanor is what unsettles you? You don’t understand, dear. I’m not out of sorts, merely conserving my energy for what is about to transpire.”

A shiver slid down her back. “What’ve you got planned?”

“Oh, I thought I’d light you up with as much power as I can conjure.” He paused. “Maybe take a walk after.”

Her mouth went utterly dry and the palms of her hands began to itch and sweat. “What?” 

“It’s time you had a proper demonstration of what I can do. Go over there,” he motioned to where the covered furniture stood. “Go on, I know you can follow instructions just fine.” 

She walked stiffly over to a covered piano and another shrouded shape that could have been anything at all. 

“Can,” she swallowed, “can we turn on a light or something?”

Alastor turned his back to her, and the air was punctured briefly as he summoned a microphone attached to a tall narrow stand: his own personal hell instrument, like a pitchfork any traditional demon would use to jab and torment. 

He struck the microphone stand into the ground, and the entire ballroom area illuminated, electric chandeliers lighting up above their heads. The lights glared blindingly for a moment before settling into a normal level of brightness. He tapped the microphone sharply with his claws. Feedback whined and static in the air began to shift. 

He went over to the bar on the other side of the empty ballroom and poured himself a drink. He moved slowly, leisurely; as though he truly did have an eternity to spare. 

From the microphone she heard fragments of voices and music and hissing, spitting static and felt the hairs on her arms and legs and the back of her neck stand up straight. The air itself was alive with static electricity, and she trembled, staring at the smooth back of Alastor’s red coat. 

While his back was turned, she let herself study his every movement with wide eyes. She wondered why the hem of his neatly tailored coat was so torn and ragged. 

“It’s rude to stare like that!” came a voice from his microphone. Its red eye blinked at her, affronted. From across the room Alastor turned to peer over his shoulder, monocle catching the light, his grin quirking up. 

“Why don’t you uncover the furniture over there, so we can make ourselves more at home, hmm?”

Looking over at the covered piano and the other sheeted shape, she shrugged. It certainly wouldn’t be the weirdest request she fulfilled on his behalf this week. Beneath the first sheet was a gleaming glossy black grand piano. 

“That’s a Steinway, dear,” the voice from the microphone informed her. “Not that your puerile mind can appreciate such things. Now, what’s underneath the other sheet, that’s more your style.” 

After pulling the other sheet off, she gaped at the Radio Demon in utter disbelief, mouth open wide enough to show every row of teeth. 

“Alastor,” she said slowly, as he approached her from the bar, “do you know what this actually is?”

A lift of his brows and tilt of his head on that weirdly elongated neck accompanied his reply. “I know what it’s for. Why, does it have a name?” 

“Sure it does, just like that piano has a name. This is a Saint Andrew’s Cross.” 

“Saint Andrew? Ha, oh, how utterly stupid!” He laughed until he had to wipe a single tear from his eye. “A cross for a saint is now a cross for a sinner! That’s rich! I brought this here especially for you, to secure those insolent hands of yours.” 

She looked at the cross, two strong, broad slabs of polished wood arranged in an “X” with cuffs affixed to each end. 

“Go on then,” he said, gesturing elegantly towards the cross. “Show me the posture of a suffering saint.”

She grit her teeth and approached the cross, then looked back over her shoulder at him expectantly.

He tapped a shiny shoe on the floor. “What are you waiting for?”

She sighed. “How do you want me placed on this?”

He blinked at her. 

“I mean,” she tried again. “Do you want my back facing you, or my front?”

He wrinkled his brow, grin still frozen in place. Then he looked thoughtful. “You should face me.”

She took the position on the cross, holding her arms up in a wide “V.”

He came in very close then, leaning over her to secure each wrist snugly in the cuffs. Her face pressed into his narrow chest briefly, and she felt his hair brush against her. She breathed in sage, dusty old velvet, and rotting viscera, redolent of a homicide committed on a vaudeville stage. Taking in another deep breath, she let his scent stir her own blood to the point of madness. 

He tested the hold of the cuffs and stood back to look at her. His pupils were narrow and vertical now, the eyes of a true fiend. 

“There really is no social protocol for this kind of thing, particularly among demons. So why don’t we cut right to the chase?” His smile became a grin that sliced his face in half. “Let’s misbehave.”


	5. Does This Spark Joy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sexual content & self harm mention present in this chapter!

His fingers wound through her hair, claws lightly dragging over her scalp. He then moved to her ears, keeping his touch light and soft. She felt the dull buzz of his electrified claws and realized what he was doing. 

He was looking for soft spots.

When she closed her eyes, he brushed her eyelids with his fingertips and she cried out, feeling the electric shock on the thin skin there. 

His smile sharpened. “There’s one.” When he squeezed her jaw, she opened her mouth for him. He tapped his claws lightly on each row of teeth, making tiny sparks.

“This mouth you’ve got,” he mused. 

She closed her mouth softly around his fingers and sucked, letting her teeth graze over them as he sent electricity fizzing and popping lightly over her tongue. 

He removed his fingers from her mouth and wiped them along the side of her face. “Why you filthy sinner, you’ve got no restraint. Other than the ones I’ve put you in of course!”

He plucked at the collar of her shirt. “This is in the way. And these.” He gestured at her clothes from head to toe. He unfastened her right hand. “You should see to it.”

Clumsily, she sliced through the fabric of her shirt until it hung from her shoulders like a ridiculous loose vest. 

He nodded and gestured downwards. 

She frowned and reached down, shredding the waistband and upper thigh of each leg of her trousers as far as she could reach. In the process she nicked her skin, and blood pooled lightly in the thin, shallow cuts.

He laughed. “You’ve made a mess of that, but it will do! Now, the rest.”

She looked down at herself. The undergarments she wore were black and unremarkable, but she hesitated to do away with them. 

“I hope you don’t think you get to choose which parts of yourself you hide from me.” A malicious electrical buzz rose from Alastor as he spoke. “I hope you don’t think any inch of your skin truly belongs to you anymore. That would be unfortunate for a sinner such as yourself, who is a slave to sensation. If you want to feel the full extent of what I can do, you’d better bear the full extent of yourself to me. That’s the nature of our deal, after all.”

She cut the bra down the middle and panties at the sides. All of her clothes dangled loosely from her, much of her skin now exposed to the staticky air. She shivered and shuddered at the invasive feel of it. 

He walked right up to her, cuffed her right wrist again, and patted her on the head. Then he snapped his fingers once, and the ragged scraps of fabric that hung from her limbs were simply gone. 

She stared at him, betrayed. “Why didn’t you do that in the first place?”

“Oh, because it’s funny to see you struggle! It would’ve been funnier to leave you in those rags, but I happened to notice all of these.”

Red eyes glowed as he regarded the countless scars that marred her flesh. He touched one lightly and began tracing over them, making constellation patterns over her breasts and belly. The electric sensation in his touch tingled each scar. 

“Could it be that you're an even greater glutton for pain than you let on?”

She frowned even as she shuddered and gasped beneath the touches and strokes of his claws. 

“It’s not like that,” she said between heavy breaths, “those are accidental! I can’t do a thing without cutting myself.”

His grin lit up as he traced complex patterns into her skin with the tips of his claws, making everything feverish and unbearably sensitive. The electric shocks rippling through her made her sweat and pant. Buzzing numbness combined with hypersensitivity, threatening to erase all conscious thought. Wave after wave of static pulsed through her being. She was lifted higher and higher as the voltage increased until her eyes rolled back in her skull and her head lolled limply to one side, resting on her shoulder and drooling.

He pulled away from her, standing back to look her up and down from head to toe, observing the flushed, scarred, heaving, sobbing mess of her. 

Then he wrapped both hands around the microphone stand, feedback and static loudly echoing around the room. His eyes lit up like lanterns and his teeth and claws glowed fiercely bright. So much power coursed through him that the lights in the ballroom dimmed, chandeliers flickering. He lifted his microphone and tapped it lightly upon the lid of the grand piano. The lid propped up unaided and the keyboard uncovered itself. 

Flames rose up from the keyboard, danced across the black and white keys once, and went out. The piano began to play itself: a soft but lively tune from a time she had never known.

He bent daintily at the waist and pulled the piano bench over, sitting neatly on it right in front of where she was shackled. Any part of her was easily within his reach. Dark red eyelids shaded his lantern eyes for a moment as he seemed to be listening to the music, snapping his clawed fingers gently and humming along. 

She stared at him and writhed where she was bound. 

“Alastor?” She prompted. “Please.”

His eyes flew open, casting a red glow over her. “Accidental scars?” he said, reaching out to grip her waist tight with both hands, sending shockwaves rippling through her pelvis. “What a lie! What a shame!” The pads of his thumbs traced circles on her hips, stirring up static until she had to press her thighs together and moan pathetically. “Tell me, what kind of accident made these?” His hand gently cupped her vulva, the soft skin of which was scarred as the rest of her body. 

“Oh,” she closed her eyes and felt her face burn with shame. She really didn’t think there was any shame left for her to feel, but there it was. 

“Tell me where they came from. The truth, now.” He gently tapped his claws on her tender skin.

“I tried,” she began, and gasped as she felt his tapping motion transition to light, teasing strokes. “I tried to touch myself at first. But it only ever hurt.”

His maddening strokes paused. “Some of these scars are freshly healed.”

She closed her eyes. “I keep on trying still, even though it hurts and I only damage myself.”

His laughter came out low. “There it is, and the truth will set you free.”

He resumed stroking her, lightly teasing, claws light and gentle, the barest hint of electric static emanating from his fingers. 

To her, it felt too tender, too good, but she was greedy for it all the same. He touched her the way she could not touch herself, tormenting her body sick with pleasure. Fingers spread her wide, crooked deeper within her body, sweetly coaxing. Fingers worked while his palm pressed against her clit, pleasing her with the most gentle electric pulses. She trembled on the cusp of a lush, voluptuous orgasm. And then he pulled away from her. She sobbed and begged for him to continue as he took a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and cleaned his glowing red claws. 

“But you didn’t strike a deal with me just to feel nice, of course,” he said, and casually incinerated the handkerchief. “Now, let's find out just how much of my power your being can withstand.”

The piano music stopped. A soft ambient pulse of static grew louder and louder until it itched her ears, and she desperately rubbed the side of her head against her shoulder. All lights overhead blinked out as the room filled with dark static. It felt like something was wrong with her sight as the static blurred out every visible thing except for Alastor. 

She could clearly see how his personality drained away from his face, though the smile remained, just as a shape fixed in place. He was the only spot of light and color among the gray static, and as he raised the microphone stand he held, strange esoteric symbols flickered and floated about him briefly. His own brand of evil magic mixed with his static electric interference, different currents of power combining, rising, and rushing outwards towards her. 

At this point she lost track of gravity, of what and where the floor and ceiling were. Dizzy and unmoored, she felt her body spin as Alastor’s dark power tugged and pulled at every cell. Her hair rose from her shoulders as the magic-infected static electricity seeped eagerly into her flesh. Goosebumps rippled over her bare form and she began to convulse. The glowing red light emanating from Alastor’s form suddenly went out, or rather it moved into the microphone on its stand. He leaned up against her, a sickly starving shadow form, and pushed his microphone, charged with insane amounts of power, right over her breast up against her heart.


	6. Blackout

The static noises stopped. Color and air stopped. She had a sudden impression of being lifted from her body and tossed up into a corner on the ceiling of the ballroom, where she watched Alastor’s dark figure press the glowing microphone into her chest as though it were a red hot poker. Then she was abruptly dragged down from the ceiling, through every single floor of the hotel, an elevator dropping down an endless shaft, until even hell seemed very very far away. 

Beyond hell spread empty blackness, wide and endless as an ocean. It pulsed and seethed and was silent. From the dark mass endless eyes peered, eyes of demons, humans, animals and angels. The eyes all blinked in their own time, looking off into separate directions. They asked a question without speaking a word. What they wanted to know was whether or not she would like to be erased, to leave her soul on the shore of the black eye-riddled sea. Her own eyes would be added to the mass, she knew. She wouldn’t have to worry about hell, or what she was meant to do with her destructive, useless body. Existence was negotiable, and the sea of eyes glittered. 

Then, just as she advanced to let it envelop her, she was once again ripped from her bearings. Only this time she was violently forced upwards, a yank on the leash of her soul, led back up through hell’s circles, each of the hotel’s floors, and brought to heel within her body once more. Her eyes shot open once before she passed out, dangling limply, still cuffed securely in place on the cross.

She regained consciousness to a soft, agitating feeling, as though drops of rain were falling on her face. Blinking, she lifted her head and realized that Alastor was right there, startlingly close to her, tapping her nose with one clawed fingertip. 

“Ah, you’re back now,” he said. His power seemed to have dissipated greatly; he was no longer a dark shadow form or a glowing monstrosity. 

“You nearly erased me,” she said, her voice hoarse. Whether that was a side effect from his power flooding her or her own screams was difficult to tell. 

“Very nearly, yes. But you seemed to want that a little too much. When I erase a demon’s existence, it means something. There is no reason for me to erase a creature like you. Though I must say,” he said as his huge red eyes looked her up and down, “you seem to have been improved by the experience.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“See for yourself,” he said, pointing over to a mirrored wall.

She saw them both reflected, half expecting to see her body burned to crisp. This was not the case; instead, her wide white eyes were illuminated bright like twin moons. She opened her mouth and a pure white light spilled from it. 

“Did your soul go on an enlightening journey, dear? Do I light up your afterlife?” He asked, and threw his head back in a fit of laughter. 

She stared at herself. “Oh,” she said, blinking her eyes and opening and shutting her mouth to see the light flicker and blink. “That’s damn incredible!”

Her jaw was suddenly grasped tight. “Now, now,” Alastor said. “Don’t be too impressed with yourself. That’s my high octane mojo I placed right into you like a candle in a jack o’lantern.” 

Giddy and full of electric energy, she lifted her leg and stroked him with her foot playfully, laughing. 

“Forgotten our conditions, have you? That’s not something you can do to me.” He knelt to cuff her ankles to the cross. “There. No more moving any extremities for you.” He paused where he knelt, looking up at her. His grin shifted from brittle and annoyed to something else. “Ah.” He exhaled slowly. “I can sense my power humming through you still. No wonder you can’t control yourself. It’s very potent, very good. I can smell it.” He ran his red claws lightly over her bare legs, considering. 

She watched him remove his monocle to tuck it away into his jacket. Before she could register any particular thought, he ran his fingers up the inside of her thighs, cupped her vulva, and used both hands to spread her open wide. He bent his head down at an absurd angle. The teeth of his massive grin only brushed her delicate flesh before he brought out his long devilish tongue and curled it up inside her.

She looked down at him, dumbstruck, the light from her eyes illuminating his face. His eyes were closed in pleasure as his tongue swirled, pressing in to take lengthy, leisurely tastes. The slow strokes felt heavenly, along with the peculiar sensation of electric power leaving her body to enter the sharp toothed mouth of the demon eating her out within an inch of her afterlife. His teeth grazed lightly, delicately over her clit until she wept and came, rocking her hips and rutting against hell’s most wicked smiling mouth. He made a tight seal with his mouth and sucked and lapped up her pleasure greedily until overstimulation made her head swim. He brought her to orgasm once more, while she writhed impaled on his tongue, and he lightly circled her clit with his fingertip. Then a third time for good measure. Through the idiotic haze of pleasure, she remembered being told that demons often do things in threes to mock the holy trinity. She would have laughed at the thought had she not been moaning like an incoherent animal. 

When he finally pulled his face from between her thighs, he was panting and drooling, chin covered in her slick. His eyes had gone black with the tiniest glowing pinpricks of red at the centers. “It’s as I thought,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can taste my power in you. You taste like me, because what’s me still burns in you.” He stood to his full height, towering above her. Body still buzzing with euphoria, she nodded, and he caught her chin in his hand. “I’m the only one with enough power to make you feel anything. Never forget that, dear. Your hide is so thick and insensitive, your hands so destructive, you cannot even give good feelings to yourself. I’m the only one who can make every single nerve in you tremble.” 

“Uh huh,” she agreed, still very much post orgasm punch drunk. 

He laughed and uncuffed each wrist and ankle, letting her fall to the floor heavily like a sack of potatoes. 

She braced herself on the cross, got to her feet and stood, wobbling and glaring at Alastor. 

He widened his yellow grin and said, “I would offer you a cigarette, but I’m afraid this hotel is the only location in hell where smoking is forbidden.”

She groaned and looked around. Now that the endorphins were fading, she realized she had nothing to wear. 

“Alastor,” she said pointedly. “My clothes.”

“I’m afraid your rags are gone for good. But never fear! Necessity is the mother of invention after all.” He picked up one of the dusty sheets that had served as a furniture cover. “See? Why, I’m practically your fairy godmother!”

He draped the sheet right over her head so that it covered her, making her look like a last minute Halloween ghost. She wrapped it around herself properly. “Are my eyes still glowing?”

“Yes, along with your mouth, but it cannot be helped.” He tilted his head. “I’m not sure how long it will last, come to think of it. You may be able to read in the dark for quite some time.” He blinked. His eyes had gone back to their normal red hues. “It’s a good thing you can light your own way back to your room. I’m afraid that, when I sent all that electricity and magic into your dead heart, the power in the entire hotel went out. I should assist with the situation. I would hate to upset our lovely hotel managers.” 

“Are you sure it’s just the hotel that’s without power now?” She asked, thinking of the sheer magnitude of electricity he’d sent through her. 

“No,” he said simply, and chuckled to himself. He brought forth his monocle and put it back in place. 

She stared at him, shifting the oversized sheet wrapped around her. “Are you going to do this to me again?” 

“Don’t count on it. But don’t count it out, either. Remember, we have a deal. Perhaps you should write it down, dear, so you don’t forget? It’s your turn to do something for me next.” 

“There is nothing I can do for you that would be equal to what you can do for me,” she pointed out. 

“No, there is not. But you have your uses, after all. You could become quite the butcher if you set your stupidly sharp hands to it. I may recommend that hotel management start up a butcher shop. You would, of course, be willing to do most of the work cutting up whatever meat I provide.” 

It wasn’t a question, not even a little bit.


End file.
